


no one's gonna take my soul away

by Diva0789



Series: Gods and Monsters Series [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: And Ian Loves It, Biting, M/M, Marking, Mickey Doesn't Share, Possessive Behavior, Submissive Ian, slight d/s themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:13:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diva0789/pseuds/Diva0789
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey Milkovich didn’t fucking share. And Ian was all his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no one's gonna take my soul away

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from 'Gods and Monsters' by Lana Del Rey.
> 
> Unbeta'd again. Sorry.

~*~

Their small town didn’t have much by the way of excitement. Mostly Mickey liked it that way, oddly enough. Sometimes he itched to start a fight but there was a gym around the corner from the shop and he’d go there every once and a while and just beat the shit out of a bag. Ian had smirked the first time he’d mentioned, spouting some bullshit about how he’d matured. Mickey had tackled him onto the bed, ordering him to take it back. It made him feel better, no one got hurt, and best of all - Ian didn’t give him that look. The look that said ‘ _what am I gonna do with you_ ’.

They went to the bar sometimes with Ian’s co-workers. Mickey even got along with them. Mostly, anyways. He knew there was a couple that just tolerated him for Ian’s sake. They thought he was loud and dirty and he figured they were just waiting for the day when Ian either threw him out or found someone better. Sad fact was, Mickey sort of wondered the same thing sometimes. He wasn’t stupid. He knew Ian deserved better; but the one time he’d tried to tell Ian that he’d gotten so pissed off they ended up screaming at each other and then fucking so rough there was blood and bruises and bite marks.

Ian had threatened to beat his ass if he ever said anything like that again. He stopped saying it, but he couldn’t stop thinking it.

Anyways, Ian meeting the boys for drinks at the bar was a regular thing. More often than not Mickey tagged along. They didn’t need to do everything together, they never had. Sometimes Mickey just wanted an hour to his fucking self and Ian got that. But today had been a good day and he followed Ian out the door, thirsty for a good beer and thinking maybe he’d challenge Ian to some darts.

The first hour or so went like usual; a lot of bad mouthing each other and swapping funny stories. Most of the guys tried to include him because they got how important he was to Ian and Mickey returned the favor by not being a dick and actually listening. Most of the shit they said was pretty funny anyways. There was a new guy who’d just transferred in from a couple towns over; Mickey had been watching him carefully. That Southside instinct to be wary of all outsiders had never really left him. Ian had relaxed his, but then he’d never been as hard as Mickey; he liked it that way. Ian should have whatever was left of his innocence for as long as possible – he didn’t give a fuck about how gay it sounded. He’d do whatever was fucking necessary to make sure he held on to it.

The new guy had stared a little too long at the vivid bite mark on Ian’s collar bone from the night before but Mickey had glared at the fucker and he’d looked away.

He and Ian were possessive of each other. Mickey had his own marks from Ian’s mouth and fingers; you just couldn’t see them under his shirt. Ian had been fucking him so good he hadn’t been able to help himself, besides, he liked the look of them. Ian was his and everyone should fucking know that and respect it.

One of the older guys from the firehouse had cornered Mick about a month after they’d settled, warning him all quiet like that Ian had protectors now or some shit. Mickey hadn’t said anything, though he’d fucking wanted to; he’d just pulled the collar of his shirt aside so he could see the equally vicious mark on his shoulder and glared. The others must have had a little fucking pow- wow or something because everyone had relaxed around Mickey after that. He tried not to resent the fuckers for thinking they could take Ian away from him, in any way, and just reminded himself that if Terry ever did come looking for him these guys would take care of Ian.

He got up at some point to take a piss, Ian slapped him on the ass and Mickey swore at him before he walked off.

He hadn’t been gone more than five minutes but when he started to head back to the table he saw how the new guy, couldn’t fucking remember his name, was leaning into Ian’s space and whispering all quiet like in his ear. Mickey could feel his whole body go from relaxed and a little drunk to fucking coiled and ready to brawl. No one touched what was his. Ian was staring at the guy with something confusion on his face, a little wary too. Feeling protective and possessive, Mickey moved up behind the interloper.

“Hey fuckwit, what the fuck you think you’re doing?” He demanded.

“Mick,” Ian protested immediately, warning him.

Mickey shot him an impatient glare. He wasn’t going to ruin the good thing they had here but he needed to make his fucking point. The other guys were watching him warily, but they knew better than to try and calm him down. Only Ian could do that.

New Guy, whatever the fuck his name was, held up his hands all fucking innocent like, a smirk on his stupid fucking face, “I was just having a conversation.”

Mickey snorted, “Look here white bread,” he barked, “Maybe in your neighborhood you can crook your finger and bring all the boys to the yard but not fucking here and not fucking Ian. Go find somewhere else to puck your dick. Clear?”

The fucker looked at Ian again, like he was inviting Ian to tell Mickey to get fucked and Mickey could _feel_ himself swell with fury. He was getting that feeling again. What Mandy used to call his Southside Fury. He was ready to bring the fucking pain to this fucker who thought he could walk on Mickey’s territory and get away with it.

Only Ian spoke up before he could do some fucking damage.

“No means fucking no,” Ian snapped.  He stood abruptly, tossed down some bills and reached for Mickey without looking. Mickey made fucking sure he was there to catch his hand and followed without protest as Ian made his way out of the bar.

He hoped the rest of the guys gave the fucker a clear talking to or the next time Mickey wouldn’t fucking bother with a warning.

They barely made it to the car before Mick backed Ian against the truck and took his mouth in a hard, possessive kiss. Ian met him with equal fury, just as possessive. Mickey fucking loved it, loved knowing Ian wanted him just as much as Mickey wanted Ian.

Ian’s hands were squeezing Mick’s ass, pulling him against his body without mercy. They were pressed so close he could feel Ian’s fucking heart pounding against his chest. Mickey went for Ian’s hair, Ian had let it grow out a little bit; it wasn’t as long as it had been when they first started this but it was long enough for Mickey to fist his hand in it and force Ian’s head back so Mick could get at his neck. He sucked a dark mark, right there where none of Ian’s shirts would cover it. Ian moaned and tried to pull him closer, grinding his hard dick against Mickey’s.

“Fuck,” Mick gasped against Ian’s throat, “ _Mine_.”

Ian’s broken moan was all he got in return. He snarled and bit again, this time breaking skin, loving Ian’s cry of surrender.

He shoved a thigh between Ian’s and ordered, “Ride me.”

Ian let loose a broken whimpering keen and did just that. Mickey pulled back, hand still fisted in Ian’s hair, and watched with heavy lidded eyes. His other hand was on Ian’s hip, guiding his thrusts.

He watched the pleasure move over Ian’s face, watched as Ian flushed with approaching orgasm and gasped Mickey’s name.

He watched closely, and when he could see Ian getting right up to edge, so ready to come but needing just a little bit more, he snapped out another order.

“Come.”

And Ian shuddered, curling in on himself as he did as he was told like the soldier he’d almost become.

He pulled Ian closer as he recovered, his own dick throbbing in his pants; needy.  He sucked little open mouthed kisses into Ian’s throat as he tried to catch his breath.

“Fuck Mick,” he rasped into Mickey’s shoulder, “I need your cock in me.”

Mickey hissed and his hips jerked briefly out of his control.

“You’ll get it,” he promised, “Now get in the fucking truck before I take you right here in the parking lot for everyone to fucking see.”

Ian pulled back to smirk, his face still flushed and eyes still dark, “You wouldn’t share me that way.”

“Shut up,” Mick glared, because it was fucking true.

Mickey Milkovich didn’t fucking share. And Ian was all his.

 

~

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking the next fic in this series will explore some of the stuff that happened here and we'll try and deal with Mickey's insecurities a little bit. <3


End file.
